


Propositions

by Catminty



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Age Play, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Prostitution Roleplay, Sticky Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catminty/pseuds/Catminty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chromedome and Rewind decide to spice things up by prostituting themselves for one night. Their evening is purchased by two mini mechs in search of mechs to play as a symbiotic pair for their <em>very</em> close-minded  host in hopes of proving that, well, symbiotes have needs, too! "Ageplay" smut and crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Propositions

**Author's Note:**

> This was another one of my half-finished pieces lying around. It'll probably end up with two or three chapters in the long run. There will be some consent issues next chapter~

This was a bad idea.

Chromedome shifted his weight to adjust for the small mech he carried on his hip. Rewind readjusted uncomfortably each time they moved, likely due to the fact that the hold was just plain awkward. He had never carried his lover this way before. It was almost…debasing. Then again, Rewind might have been adjusting to grind his warming panel against Chromedome’s side. The mini-mech was getting a little too turned on by this role play.

This was a bad idea. Very bad.

A clock ticked softly in the background. Chromedome envied the inanimate object’s blissful innocence despite the embers of desire slowly stoking in the depths of his belly. At least _it_ didn’t have to be the center of attention for what was chalked up to prostitution.

Soft, woven fibers of organic material gave slightly under Chromedome’s shifting feet. While this place certainly wasn’t the Towers, the mech staring intently at his frame probably could afford living there and then some. A beautifully programmed 3D rendition of the Crystal Gardens sparkled softly on an artfully-sculpted wall mount just beyond the silent stranger’s shoulder. That piece alone was probably worth more than his and Rewind’s worth put together. And it was just a decoration in this mech’s _foyer_ for frag’s sake.

Cradled in his arms, Rewind buried his face in Chromedome’s neck cables. “Carrier, I’m tired…” he whined softly, sounding very much like a sleepy youngling.

The tiny plea made the blue mech’s ruby visor jerk down to the pint-sized frame, thankfully directing the heated, hungry gaze from Chromedome’s pathetic attempt at acting. All he’d been able to do since stepping in the front door was stand there, face turned away coyly like a shy mech too self-conscious to ask for a good frag. In reality, he was more than a little nervous.  

This wasn’t exactly what they had in mind when they decided to “try something new” on a whim. Selling your frame for a few hours in a questionable part of town was bad enough. Being lead to an abandoned, broken down neighborhood was worse. “Being spontaneous” was what Rewind called it. They took the offer to frag a nameless mech that probably only a few living sparks even knew lived in what looked like squalor on the outside. But once you got through shack fronts and booby-trapped passageways—yes, traps littered the entire area—you’d find a beautiful home. Like a jewel in the rough surrounded by a lava pool. What kind of mech would live like that?

Probably someone who was paranoid, or maybe just crazy. Either one could be bad. Chromedome rested a hand on the back of Rewind’s head and shushed him softly for reassurance more for himself than his partner. Their observer tilted his helm and took a half-step forward in interest.

Paranoia was a better word for it. Yeah. There was a good chance that no one knew about this mech because he made sure no one did. This guy was either one of those rich mechs that paid to have his name kept out of the books, or he was one of those rare few who was capable of hacking mainframes to accomplish such a feat on his own. Or he just killed whoever found him. Er… Bad ideas.

Either way, it was a big, dangerous gamble that was turning him on far more than what was strictly necessary. Who knew he had a kink for danger?

A hand rose to touch Chromedome’s arm, but paused when he nervously blurted, “C-Chromedome.” Fingers flexed, just barely out of reach of touching him. His untouched plating tingled just beneath their tantalizing reach. “It’s my name. This is Rewind.” If his arm brushed against the mech’s hand when he shifted Rewind for emphasis, it couldn’t have been on purpose. “D-Do you have somewhere he could…?”

The mech took a slow, measured step backwards. Static electricity chased warmth down Chromedome’s arm as the mech dragged his fingers on his retreat. Silent, seductive, probably deadly; Chromedome didn’t even try to stop his cooling fans when they quietly clicked on. They made their way into a room nearby. Rewind was laid gently on a thickly padded berth in part show, part care by the nervous orange mech. Chromedome placed a soft almost-kiss through his mask on his partner’s forehead, like any good “parent” would, and quietly padded to the door where their host waited patiently. He caught one last glance of Rewind doing an amazing act of just falling into recharge just before the door slid shut.

This was entirely an act. It was strange pretending to be creator and creation, but it was what the buyer—or rather, the buyer’s creations—had ordered. They were little ones just like Rewind. Small in stature, one might think they were younglings rather than adult mechs. Well they weren’t really that similar to Rewind. The pair of mini-mechs were blunt and a bit crude when they propositioned for the deal. All Chromedome and Rewind had to do was pretend and—hopefully—interface.

Soundwave was his name. He was apparently extremely picky when it came to his interface partners. Secluded as he was, he didn’t get very many frag offers. But he didn’t actively seek partners either. Not unless they were host mechs, however. It was some sort of kink/limitation that the frame type had, and most only fragged their own kind as an unspoken rule. Soundwave held the same opinion, but also the opinion that mini-mechs were sparklings rather than adult mechs.

So when Chromedome coddled his “creation” upon meeting this new mech, it caught Soundwave’s interest. When the twin minis mentioned that Chromedome was a shy host mech looking for some lovin’, there was no mistaking the way Soundwave optic-fragged him on the spot. He hoped his nervous act would satisfy the mysterious mech.

Wrapping his arms together in front of his chest, Chromedome slowly walked alongside Soundwave down the cleanly hallway. His spark raced in its housing in giddy nervousness, his fuel pump worked a little faster in preparation for what was to come. Was this what pleasurebots felt like? If so, _frag_. Talk about a high.

They paused just inside the room at the end of the hall. Chromedome stared at nothing in particular on the floor while the silent, blue mech closed the door behind them. Steps stopped right behind his frame, and then hands ran slowly down his arms, sending shivers of arousal through his systems. A light push guided Chromedome to the left, pressing him against the wall. Were they going to do it here? Against the wall? Lubricant collected in his valve as it clenched on nothing.

Chromedome groaned softly when the heat of Soundwave’s frame pressed flush against his back and aft. They were running just as hot as the other, but the other mech sure knew how to hide his attraction. Fingers rubbed in tantalizing circles over the orange mech’s valve cover. It slid away, barely skimming out of the way before two blunt fingers pressed past his tight opening.

The tightness kind of came with his choice in partners. Rewind wasn’t exactly _large_ for obvious reasons. So even though they took turns on who fragged who, Chromedome stayed rather tight. Though, the mini did like to occasionally equip the biggest strap-on he could wrangle and, erm, thoroughly test the capacity of Chromedome’s valve. It had been a while since they’d had one of _those_ evenings, so his valve was comfortably snug around those thick fingers that slid through his collected lubricant.

He planted his hands on the wall on either side of his frame as Soundwave worked those fingers in deeper. It felt better than it should have, considering this was a complete and total _stranger_. Face flush, Chromedome turned his head to the side and tried to scan the room for…aha! A tiny red light cut through the darkness of the screened ventilation duct near the floor on the other side of the room. Rewind was watching, and recording, and oh _frag_ did it feel good when the blue mech twisted his hand like that—!! Chromedome’s head tilted back as pleasure overtook his frame.

The hand pulled out of his valve and was presented in front of his mask. Chromedome shook in burning need and a small bit of nervousness as he retracted his mask and closed his lips around the proffered fingers. Instinct had him shuttering his optics to focus on the flavor. It was something Rewind loved to do whenever they fragged. He’d grown quite accustomed to his own taste over the years, but this time it was different. This time he tasted himself, thick and heady, with an underlying flavor of fine wax. The fingers slid in and out of his mouth in shallow strokes. Chromedome opened his mouth wider and coaxed them deeper with his glossa, silently encouraging.

Soundwave’s cooling fans finally sprang to life at the display. Their hips separated momentarily, accompanied by the sounds of moving parts and shifting plating. A spike head brushed his entrance lightly, circling the wet rim in a careful spiral. Chromedome groaned around the fingers shoved down his intakes. The spike’s tip slid around the edge of his valve, teasing the edge to make the tight entrance loosen slightly. The fifth circle had Chromedome’s spike swelling in its housing.

But then the blue mech’s free hand angled his hips forward, and the head of the spike slid just past the tight ring of calipers at his entrance. Chromedome moaned wantonly as the head of the spike slid out and back in in a torturous cycle. It was enough stimulation to make lubricant trickle down his quivering legs. The hand at his mouth pulled away and raised one of his legs up for better access. Warm chestplates pressed Chromedome to the wall while hot vents washed down his exposed lower back. The contrast only helped accentuate the sensation of the swollen spike sliding just barely into his needy depths.

The teasing was getting to be too much. Chromedome tried to push his hips back to force the spike in deeper, but the hand securely on his hips and leg stopped him in his tracks. He was pinned against the wall by a mech that hadn’t even said a single word to him before. More lubricant seeped out of his sensitized valve. Shamed arousal burned fire down his lines. It felt too good being so vulnerable. He didn’t want to beg for release. But at the same time, he wanted to more than anything else. “P-Please,” Chromedome begged in a tiny voice. Soundwave went stiff at his back, thrusts sharper. “Please f-frag me harder.”

He almost thought his request was ignored. The denial made his valve constrict tighter. Then, without warning, Soundwave lifted his leg higher and buried the spike in his overstimulated valve. Chromedome clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his startled shout. His valve felt ten times as sensitive as it ever had been. The spike withdrew to the tip then slid through the copious lubricant to the hilt. He couldn’t have stopped his own spike from eagerly springing out if he had tried.

Their hips met briefly, sliding against one another as Soundwave swiveled his hips just so to force the spike against his valve’s ceiling node. Chromedome bit his hand desperately to quite a startled yelp when it happened again and again. Each thrust pressed him flat against the wall, making his own spike rub against the smooth surface. Soft pants behind a mask caught his audio. Without thinking, Chromedome turned his helm and brushed his lips along the silver mask, his lidded optics silently pleading with the smoldering, ruby visor.

The metal retracted, their lips met in a shared intake. A thick glossa forced its way into his mouth in a demanding kiss that tipped him over the edge. Soundwave stilled behind him with a finite thrust, jolting their frames up the wall with a harsh motion. Sparks danced across their frames through their shared overload. Spurts of silver painted the wall and the recesses of Chromedome’s valve. They ventilated hard, mouths still working against each other’s even as the silver trails trickled down to the floor.

In the vents, Rewind bit his lip hard to muffle his quiet cry. Pitter-patters of silver rained down on the metal beneath his crackling frame as the last ebbs of overload washed through his system.


End file.
